Guest contributor

Shalini Perumal

For years, a silent injustice and dark shadow persisted in the overcrowded city of Delhi, India. The children of Rohingya refugees, who had fled unimaginable horrors in their homeland of Myanmar, found themselves denied the fundamental right to education. 

Their plight, often overlooked amidst the complexities of immigration and national security concerns, finally reached the highest powers of the Indian judiciary. The recent ruling by the Supreme Court in February 2025 to recognise the right to education of Rohingya children despite their legal status, a direct consequence of Rohingya refugees’ hard fight and the advocacy of compassionate organisations, marks a watershed moment. 

The court’s decision is long overdue yet welcome, with reports of schools finally offering Rohingya children a fresh start. This landmark judgment, however, was not easily won. It was preceded by the chilling query from the Supreme Court itself, questioning the legal status of these children as a prerequisite for accessing education. This inquiry laid bare the contentious terrain upon which the fundamental rights of vulnerable populations are often debated. 

At the heart of this issue lies the principle of the right to education as a fundamental human right. This is not merely a matter of policy or national discretion; it is a cornerstone of international law and ethical philosophy. 

The Universal Declaration of Human Rights, a document that India has historically championed, explicitly states in Article 26 that “Everyone has the right to education.” This declaration makes no distinction based on nationality, immigration status, or any other such categorisation. It speaks to the inherent dignity of every person and their right to develop their full potential.

Furthermore, the Convention on the Rights of the Child, while not ratified in its entirety by India, strongly advocates for the right to education for all children within a state’s jurisdiction, again without discrimination based on their legal standing or that of their parents. These international instruments reflect a global consensus that education is not a privilege to be granted selectively but a fundamental entitlement necessary for personal growth, societal progress, human dignity and wellbeing. 

To deny a child education based solely on their immigration status is to inflict a lasting injustice. It is to condemn them to a life potentially marred by the inability to read or write, limited opportunities, and increased vulnerability to exploitation. Ethically, it raises serious questions about our collective responsibility towards those who find themselves within our borders, particularly children who bear no responsibility for the circumstances that led to their displacement. 

To prioritise legal technicalities over the fundamental needs of a child is to betray the very essence of compassion and human solidarity. The long-term societal consequences of creating a marginalised and uneducated “underclass” are equally concerning, potentially leading to social unrest, increased crime rates, and a drain on resources that could have been averted through education and integration.

The Supreme Court’s initial query regarding the “legal migrant” status of the Rohingya children highlights the complex and often dehumanising nature of immigration law. It is crucial to understand the distinctions between refugees, asylum seekers, and those classified as “illegal migrants.” 

Refugees are individuals who have fled their home countries due to a well-founded fear of persecution based on race, religion, nationality, membership of a particular social group, or political opinion. Asylum seekers are those who have applied for refugee status and are awaiting a decision. The term “illegal migrant” is often used to describe those who have entered a country without authorisation or have overstayed their visas.   

The Rohingya people, in particular, represent a unique and tragic case. They are a stateless ethnic minority who have faced decades of systematic persecution and violence in Myanmar, leading to mass displacement and a desperate search for safety. 

Their flight to India was not a matter of choice but a consequence of existential threats in their homeland. While India is not a signatory to the 1951 Refugee Convention, it has a long-standing tradition of providing refuge and adheres to the principle of non-refoulement, which prohibits the return of refugees to a country where they face a serious threat to their life or freedom.

Applying rigid legal definitions without considering the humanitarian context can be deeply problematic, especially when it comes to children. These young people are often victims of circumstances entirely beyond their control. To make their access to basic rights like education contingent on the often-protracted and complex process of determining legal status is to hold them hostage to bureaucratic procedures. It ignores the immediate and pressing need for their development and well-being. 

The Supreme Court’s eventual ruling in favor of providing education to Rohingya children draws from Article 21 of the Indian Constitution, which guarantees the right to life and personal liberty, a right that has been interpreted expansively by the judiciary to include the right to live with dignity. Education is increasingly recognised as an integral component of a life lived with dignity, providing humanity with the tools and opportunities to lead fulfilling and meaningful lives.

Furthermore, Article 14 of the Constitution guarantees equality before the law and equal protection of the laws within the territory of India. While this article primarily concerns citizens, its underlying principle of equality and non-discrimination can be extended to encompass all residing within the nation’s borders, especially when it comes to fundamental human rights like education. 

Past judgments by the Indian Supreme Court and precedents from international courts have often emphasised the need to interpret fundamental rights in a manner that aligns with international human rights norms and principles of social justice.   

Beyond the ethical and legal imperatives, there are compelling socio-economic reasons to ensure that refugee children, including the Rohingya, have access to education. Educated children are more likely to become productive members of society, contributing to the economy through their skills and talents. Providing them with education equips them with the tools to escape poverty, reduce their dependence on aid, and integrate more effectively into their host communities.

Conversely, denying education to these children creates a marginalised and potentially disenfranchised population. Without skills and opportunities, they become more vulnerable to exploitation, crime, and social unrest. This not only harms the individuals themselves but also places a greater burden on society in the long run, requiring more resources for social welfare, law enforcement, and healthcare.

Concerns about the strain on resources and infrastructure are understandable. However, these concerns must be weighed against the long-term costs of inaction. Investing in the education of refugee children is not merely an act of charity; it is a strategic investment in the future. 

It can be achieved through collaboration between government agencies, non-governmental organizations (NGOs), and international organisations, leveraging existing infrastructure and resources while exploring innovative solutions like community-based learning centres and integrating refugee children into existing school systems where feasible. 

The role of NGOs and civil society organisations in advocating for and providing support in this regard is invaluable, bridging the gap between the needs of the refugee community and the resources available.

India has a rich history of providing refuge and has long prided itself on its cultural ethos of compassion and hospitality. From Tibetan refugees to those fleeing conflict in neighboring countries, India has often extended a helping hand to those in need, even without being a formal signatory to the Refugee Convention. 

Upholding the right to education for vulnerable children like the Rohingya aligns perfectly with these values finally, when in recent years the country has faced immense backlash for being “schizophrenic” in its lip service with its actions. 

Without access to education, Rohingya children are at increased risk of child labor, early marriage, and exploitation. Providing them with a safe and supportive learning environment can offer them protection, psychosocial support, and the opportunity to heal from their past experiences. 

Investing in their education is an investment in their future well-being and their potential to become contributing members of society, wherever they may eventually reside. 

The challenges faced by the Rohingya community in India, including the lack of legal recognition, limited access to basic services, and social stigma, make the provision of education even more critical in empowering these children and ensuring their resilience.

The right to education is not a conditional gift bestowed upon those deemed “legal”; it is an inherent and universal right that belongs to every child, irrespective of their nationality or circumstances.

As India moves forward, it must embrace a compassionate and rights-based approach towards all vulnerable populations within its borders. The education of Rohingya children is not merely a humanitarian gesture; it is an investment in their future.

Shalini Perumal is a creative international development professional who has worked previously in Mae Sot, Thailand at Mae Tao Clinic. She is currently a freelance journalist as well as consultant at Finnish Refugee Council Myanmar.

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